


Actions Speak Louder Than Words

by ptw30



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Body Worship, F/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:11:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9961040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptw30/pseuds/ptw30
Summary: While watching the Castle of Lions' cameras, Allura catches Shiro's work-out and discovers perhaps the Black Paladin might still be a prisoner, trapped by the terrible memories of his time with the Galra. And she's determined to finally free him, one way or another.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as part of the [VLD Drabble Challenge,](http://ptw30.tumblr.com/post/157122852144/30-day-challenge-masterpost-vld-drabbles) prompt technology.

Allura had a guilty pleasure when on monitor duty. She liked to watch the cameras about the Castle of Lions’ hallways. The mice already told her the innocent secrets of the paladins and Coran, but alone on the bridge, she was bored and liked to see what her family was up to. And while she never looked at the cameras in their rooms – they were a security protocol and only activated in the event of an emergency – she still learned a few quirky tidbits just by watching the visuals.

It was how she knew Lance painted Pidge’s nails, and Keith helped Hunk to cook breakfast every morning (not that he ever told the team). It was how she learned Lance joined Coran on cleaning duty and that it was Pidge who disabled the locks on Keith’s door, so Hunk could fill his bathtub with ice. (She didn’t understand that particular bonding activity, but she guessed it was an Earthling ritual.)

It was how she learned that Shiro liked to work out on the training deck during his down time, sharpening his combat skills with the gladiator or strengthening his body with precise exercises. She particularly liked the days he worked on the floor, brilliant muscle contracting, face scrunched with intense focus. His skin-tight shirt showcased those sculpted abs and glorious shoulders, and oh – those biceps. They thickened and then thinned with each rep, and Allura briefly thought about hitting off the feed. Her actions bordered on voyeurism, but then again, this wasn’t anything she couldn’t see for herself if she went to the training deck. Shiro wasn’t shy in that regard.  

He was in other areas, though.

As Shiro wipe off the sweat from his face and neck, Allura noticed his eyes caught the mirror across from the workout area. His gaze drifted down to his calf since the hem of his shorts hung just above his knees. Minor pink scars littered his rather light, sun-deprived skin, but this particular one scar was nasty and brutish. The ragged pattern and abrasive texture looked to be the work of a dull sword or perhaps even a Kris, and it must have been painfully acquired.

In the mirror’s reflection, Shiro’s face fell, his expression troubled and downcast. His eyes lifted then, focusing on his own features, and a shaky hand ghosted across his bangs and the rough scar on the bridge of his nose.

As if on a trance, he tugged up the sweat-drenched chest of his shirt and lifted the form-fitting fabric over his head.

Allura gasped.  

Of course, Shiro’s time with the Galra left his taut skin scarred. From three circular wounds on his left shoulder – from the spears of a mace? – to deformed skin on his right torso from what appeared to be second-degree burns, Shiro’s skin told a tale of pain and misery.

But the physical scars paled in comparison to the emotional ones, and Allura’s heart broke as Shiro simply stared at himself in the mirror with trembling eyes and a disturbed expression. Whether he was trapped in memories or horrified by the present – it would not do.

Allura called Coran to watch the bridge, ignoring his sputtering about not finishing his moustache grooming routine, and went down to the gym.

So lost in his pain, Shiro didn’t even notice her approach until her gentle hands slid up his back and ghosted over the ravaged skin.

“Princess!” He automatically twisted away, already threading his shirt sleeves with his arms. “What are you – ”

“Shhhh,” she soothed, nimble fingers skimming across his chest, taking pleasure in his shallow breaths. They glided down those toned abs and settled on the scar tissue, eliciting a soft hiss and a fierce shiver. Her eyes lifted to find those gray irises blown wide with equal parts uncertainty and arousal.

Good.

With a sensual smile, she pressed her lips to the remnants of a rather nasty wound just above his heart, lithe hands roaming his torso and along the toned muscles. Then she took a step forward, her body flush against his, and her arms coiled about his waist. Her lips read the story his tight body told, kissing each scar, her tongue sliding across the rough lines and worshipping the man who endured unimaginable trauma and refused to break.

And she wouldn’t let him. Allura would give her paladin just what he needed – and perhaps what she needed, too. They were both survivors.

Shiro was strong but flawed, not by his impeccable body but by his pride. He wouldn’t just accept her words as fact, but she hoped he would accept her actions as tangible truth.

_You are no longer a prisoner, trapped in a hell you cannot escape. You did. You are here, Shiro. You are with me, and you are not broken or damaged._

_And you are beautiful._

Shiro’s arms eventually lifted from his sides, where they had been pinned by some invisible force, and his Galra hand touched her chin. As she raised her eyes to meet his again, Shiro’s raw and heated gaze devoured her lust, and his opposite hand spread wide across her lower back. His head subsequently dipped to seal Allura’s lips in a fierce, searing embrace, and she dove into his fervent desire.

Arms wrapped about his neck, her legs about his waist, she all but smashed him against the mirror. They kissed until they could no longer breathe. Their hands clutched and caressed. They worked each other into a delirious haze of greedy hunger and passion, and as Allura reached for his shorts and Shiro for her jumpsuit zipper, the castle went on alert.

“Oh, Quiznak!”

“I’m sure Black will let Coran fly him,” Shiro whispered against her neck.

She petted the side of his cheek with a warm chuckle. “If only. Then you could take his place on the bridge, and I could watch your quiznaking backside every battle.”

Oh, that blush was adorable. She would have to see it more often.

Dropping to the ground, she sighed and motioned toward the exit. “Go. We’ll resume this later.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course.” She pushed up on her toes to press a chaste kiss his lips, then slapped him hard on the ass. “You should workout shirtless from now on. I need some entertainment during monitor duty.”

Less than a week later, Allura once more sat at the monitor, bored after scanning the sensors for a fifth time. Keith snuck into Lance’s room. Pidge and Hunk worked in the kitchen making cookies. Coran was off doing his Coran things, and she sighed from the lack of excitement until the mice rushed into the room, squeaking uncontrollably.

“What? Check the training deck…?”

Allura couldn’t help the sensual smile that crossed her features with one glance.

Shiro was working out – shirtless.

_The End_


End file.
